Page:The poetical works of William Cowper (IA poeticalworksof00cowp).pdf/120

 Oh! let me then at length be taught
 * What I am still so slow to learn;

That God is Love, and changes not,
 * Nor knows the shadow of a turn.

Sweet truth, and easy to repeat!
 * But when my faith is sharply tried,

I find myself a learner yet,
 * Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.

But, O my Lord, one look from thee
 * Subdues the disobedient will,

Drives doubt and discontent away,
 * And thy rebellious worm is still.

Thou art as ready to forgive
 * As I am ready to repine;

Thou, therefore, all the praise receive;
 * Be shame and self-abhorrence mine.

Saviour hides his face!
 * My spirit thirsts to prove

Renewed supplies of pardoning grace,
 * And never-fading love.


 * The favoured souls who know
 * What glories shine in him,

Pant for his presence as the roe
 * Pants for the living stream.


 * What trifles tease me now!
 * They swarm like summer flies;

They cleave to everything I do,
 * And swim before my eyes.


 * How dull the Sabbath day
 * Without the Sabbath's Lord!

How toilsome then to sing and pray,
 * And wait upon the word!


 * Of all the truths I hear,
 * How few delight my taste!

I glean a berry here and there,
 * But mourn the vintage past.


 * Yet let me (as I ought)
 * Still hope to be supplied;

No pleasure else is worth a thought,
 * Nor shall I be denied.


 * Though I am but a worm,
 * Unworthy of his care,

The Lord will my desire perform,
 * And grant me all my prayer.

Lord! accept a sinful heart,
 * Which of itself complains,

And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
 * The evil it contains.

There fiery seeds of anger lurk,
 * Which often hurt my frame;

And wait but for the tempter's work
 * To fan them to a flame.

Legality holds out a bribe
 * To purchase life from thee;

And Discontent would fain prescribe
 * How thou shalt deal with me.

While Unbelief withstands thy grace,
 * And puts the mercy by;

Presumption, with a brow of brass,
 * Says, "Give me, or I die!"

How eager are my thoughts to roam
 * In quest of what they love!

But ah! when Duty calls them home,
 * How heavily they move!

Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood,
 * Transform me by thy power,

And make me thy beloved abode,
 * And let me roam no more.

, who hast suffered all for me,
 * My peace and pardon to procure,

The lighter cross I bear for thee
 * Help me with patience to endure.

The storm of loud repining hush;
 * I would in humble silence mourn;

Why should the unburnt, though burning bush,
 * Be angry as the crackling thorn?

Man should not faint at thy rebuke,
 * Like Joshua falling on his face,

When the cursed thing that Achan took
 * Brought Israel into just disgrace.